The Quiet Ones
by Melancholy of the Cello
Summary: Zafina's mind is focused only on her mission. She's only allowing herself to think about finding the truth. And...the handsome, mysterious, quiet one she met at the Tournament.
1. Goal

I love a good challenge. The stronger the opponent, the happier I am to bury them in the dust. I would be happy to offer them the option of death. My thirst for blood began on that day. It was the day I had defeated an entire legion of foreigners that tried to attack my people and the temple that forced us to sacrifice so much to protect it. Using all of my strength and with the help of the gods that watched over me on that day, I killed them all.  
That's just history now.  
I have met no one that I could not handle; that I could not tame with my own hands. Entering the King of Iron Fist Tournament 6 would be a test of that. I have no doubt that I can beat every opponent, make my way up, and uncover the mystery that is the Apocalypse.  
"Prepare to meet your match," I say, looking at the roster of contestants and their first match. Scrolling my finger down on the posted list, I find my name and trace my finger across the horizontal dotted line, "Christie Monteiro."

Behind me people wait impatiently to see who they will be facing. A blonde woman sneers at me when I turn and a younger man with goggles atop his head tells me to 'Move the fuck along' or something of that nature. I can't wait until I feel his blood on my fists and then be the one to tell him, once I am done kicking around his prideful ass like a rag-doll to "Move the fuck along".  
I leave slowly just to annoy the impatient competition, especially the foul-mouthed Asian  
For a second, I want to do what the people call, "flipping the bird" but that would probably be taking it too far.

Once I am a safe distance from the line of angered people, I look around for who I think might be Christie Monteiro. I was looking for a girl obviously, and from the sound of her last name, someone of Spanish or Brazilian decent. I glance around, first seeing a white woman with short, brown hair and an overly seductive outfit. Probably not her. Then I see a crowd of men and a few Asian girls. No one who fits the description yet. Finally, I see a girl with a tight ponytail and sequined pants, her bra-like top barely covered what they were designed to, her skin is a light brown and her hair was light brown as well.  
_Finally found you, Christie._  
She didn't look like too much of a challenge. If she's Brazilian, no doubt she is skilled in the Martial art Capoeira. If she is a Spaniard, she could be skilled in Eskrima. Either way, I was confident in the fact that this would be an easy win.  
I look at her, studying her one more time. She's talking with a man, sporting a purple suit and shades.  
_Prepare for elimination, girl._  
I smirk at her, pitying her as I do. Everyone participates in this competition for a reason, some more dire than others. Something about her just screamed at me, "This competition is the end-all-be-all for her! Show mercy!"  
I ignored that feeling and walked across the street for tea and then a meditation session before our match.


	2. Along Came a Spider

**Thank you for reading _The Quiet Ones_. I hope that you like reading it just as much as love writing it. Please don't be afraid to review. Not just for the compliments ('Cause you know I love praise!) but also for constructive advice and criticism.**

**My knowledge of Zafina is limited and what I know of Sergei is much more substantial (Yay, T5: DR!), but since I do not have T6 yet under my repertoire of Tekken games, it's more limited than your average Tekkener (with T6). So the moral of this story: Please forgive me if I am ever inaccurate in my descriptions or detail! Also, just as a heads-up, my ending or sub-boss fights may not match the game...sorry.**

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* * *

**

I slam the key card of my hotel room into the slot on the door handle viciously. Some idiot working at the nearby tea shop came to me with my order wrong, giving me Oolong instead of Green tea. I was already upset that they did not have the Indian tea, Nilgiri; he only made it worse on himself by giving me the wrong thing. What further ruined my first experience in Japan was that the nervously sweating teenage boy dropped the tea and nearly scalded me! I resolved that I despised this country and couldn't wait to go back to my own.  
The light on the slot flickered red, signaling to me that I had done something wrong. I was this close to kicking the door into oblivion but held back as there were still people in the hallway and making a fool of myself here wasn't exactly my plan. I turned the card around, the black bar facing me and pushed it in hard, taking out a second or two later.  
The light flickered red.

I puffed in agitation, wondering what in Hell I was doing wrong. I must have pushed it back in and out at least a dozen other times, with the same result. I needed to meditate, pray and rest. My flight here was a long one and with all of the training I had done previously I was worn out and needed to rest before I could win _any_ fighting competition.  
"Need any help?"

Another voice is not what I wanted to hear right now. I wanted to hear the sound of the handle of the door clicking open as I turned it. _Not_ a female asking me if I wanted _her_ help. I look up from the lock on the door with a smirk, my eyes narrowed. I see a young woman, her hair was in a long brown braid, a headband with feathers through it covered part of her forehead. She looked like some Native-American cowgirl. Her sense of style irked me.  
She saw the look on my face and then soon the smile she wore when she greeted me turned into a look of confusion.  
"No need to look like that!" she said, waving her hands as if to tell me, "No."  
"I'm Julia Chang," she says, holding a hand out. I give her a look and turn back around. I have no time for formal introductions. Even though I have completely blocked her from my radar, she continues to stand next to me as if she was waiting for something.  
I look up and glare at her, "What do you want?"  
"I asked if you wanted me to help you. Those key cards can be tricky."  
I take one good look at the woman in front of me, committing her face to memory. I sigh and move aside, handing her the card. She flips it around skillfully between her fingers and shoves it into the slot. She holds the card there for a few seconds and pulls out quickly. I wait for the light. Before it shows, Julia hands me the card, confident that will work. The light flickered green. The woman opens the door for me and smiles at me.  
"Thank you," I say halfheartedly and I walk in and close the door before she can respond.

Finally inside, I take off my shoes immediately and set them as a pair next to the door. I had someone that worked at the hotel put my bags in my room for me so I knew that they would already be here. I decide to live out my suitcase for now, unpacking isn't what's most important to me. There will be time for that later.  
I begin by laying out a soft, red, rug to serve as my altar. I take out incense and matches. I untie my hair and let it fall. I was surprised that it came down to the middle of my back, as it was only slightly below my shoulders a few months ago.  
Taking a match and its box in my hand, I strike the match against the matchbox's side and watch the match light. Setting the match to the incense and watching it burn, I blow out both flames and get into meditating position.  
I feel so calm and serene when I meditate. It makes me feel whole and more than just a cold, heartless, assassin. I am a woman that loves and feels just like the rest of us.  
When I meditate, I pray also. I pray the standard Buddhist praying and one of my own. Thirty minutes later, I open my eyes, feeling ready to conquer the world. I wet the incense sticks in the bathroom under water from the sink and toss them into a round receptacle next to the toilet.

Feeling in dire need of a shower, I slip carefully out of my red dress, gloves, and stockings, conscientiously taking off my jewelry and placing them on a small chair in the bathroom. I run the water and test its temperature, as I let the warm water run over my finger. Once I find that it is adequate, I step in, and pull the shower curtain forward.

* * *

I am dressed in my traditional Indian attire, though the sandals are starting to pinch and the skirt seems like it's rising with each step I take. I consider turning back and changing clothes, but then an announcement comes over the intercom.

"First contenders, please come to fighting arena one!"

Well, I was set to be match number three. So, I would be called within minutes of match one. I was curious as to who was up first, but then, just as I had thought so, the announcer spoke again, "Again! First contenders: Hwoarang and Marshall Law to arena one."

I frowned slightly. I had never heard of them. Not like it was expected that I should, I knew no one here. I took a seat in the waiting area and look around for some interesting faces.  
I see nothing special for a long time. There was a pretty cute blonde man; he looked like a boxer of some sort and an interesting girl with pink hair. But, I realized I never did look on either side of me. What if they had caught my gaze? I hate when that happens. Out of curiosity, I look to my left first.  
There is a teenage girl who looked about fifteen or sixteen, her hair in two ponytails on each side of her head, kept up by two brightly colored neon ring hair ties. She looked Chinese and very weak. Hoping for something more interesting, I glance to my right. It's a guy. His eyes look emotionless...or was that just boredom? He was slightly pale and his eyes were a crystalline blue. He looked like he belonged in some European or Asian military; his face was as emotionless as his eyes. There was a scar on his face, above his lip.  
All of this, in its own way, made him interesting. He seemed like a very quiet, patient guy. I found myself making up my own version of his life's story in my head. Was this more out of boredom or...out of genuine curiosity of who he is?

"Again, third contenders: Christie Montiero and Zafina to arena three!" the announcer called.

My head snapped up. _Again?_ I had missed him calling me the first time? I forgot my blunder for the moment (believe me, I will be kicking myself after the match for that one) and stood, quickly walking to arena three.  
I hear a high-pitched child-like voice shout something in Japanese.

Despite my being unsure to whom she was referring, I kept going.


	3. The Snake Charmer

**It's that time again. Another chapter of _The Quiet Ones_. Ah...fight scenes...they're my Achilles heal. I love reading them, I love practicing writing them...I just hate when they actually matter or count for something. The fight scene in this chapter is only 1/4 the reason why it took so long to write this chapter. School is another 1/4. Procrastination is another 1/4 and constant distraction and sharing of the computer is another 1/4. **

**Another unaccounted for fraction (which would make the fraction 1/5) is all of the research I had to do on Zafina's Kalarippayattu/Ancient Assassination M.A. Thank you so much for your support and patience!**

**~ M.o.t.C  
**

* * *

My heart is racing. I feel a nervousness I have never felt before. I had already analyzed my competitor and concluded that she was not worth the effort I had initially planned to give. But now that I stand in the arena...I am overcome by a fear I cannot explain. I step into the ring and wait for Christie to arrive. She shows herself and quickly gets in her stance. Mustering up my confidence, I get into my stance, ready to fight.  
Capoeira is all about rhythmic movement and feeling the beat whereas, Kalarippayattu is all about fluidity and is always referred as something like a dance, I analyze. I get into my stance and wait for the go.

The fight starts. The timer is ticking down how much time I have to eliminate her. She attacks first, holding her body weight up by her arms, quickly and gracefully she spins her lower body so that her legs and feet imitate some sort of windmill affect. Christie's feet clash with my ankles and it sends me tumbling. I try to quickly collect myself but, she flips backwards almost immediately after the onslaught and her feet land on my abdomen.

"Gah!" I shout out, truly not prepared for the impact.

She steps away for a moment, maybe to prepare herself for a soon-to-come assault on me. I use the wall as my support and stand. My knees feel week and my body aches, but I must keep going. I block her next attack to my face and flip backwards. I'm now pinned to another wall but at least I have room to breathe. I strike her in the face hard with my palm, combating the Brazilian with even more of my jabs. Next, to insure that she's dazed enough for me to calm myself a little, I roundhouse kick her in the belly and send her flying backwards. She stays down for a second, but gets back up quicker than I expected. This time, instead of wearing a smile on that pretty little face of hers, she is fashioning a bloody cheek and a fiery, hateful look. The girl charged at me with defiant eyes; she refused to be beaten. Well, so did I.  
I step aside gracefully and get into Tarantula Stance, attacking her with Tarantula Claw. She spins sideways in the air and lands on her back. She cries out in pain after the sudden impact. Eventually, she pushes herself back up with her arms and gets back into her stance.

_I wish she'd just give up,_ I think to myself when I see her standing.

I get into Tarantula stance again and then perform the Crawl, hoping to get close enough to hit her with another barrage, hopefully from the bottom and working my way up until she finally loses. Unfortunately, my attempts go in vain when she sees me and again sweeps me off my feet, or rather, in this case, my hands. I should have known. Legs and kicking are a big part of Capoeira. Legs can reach low distances, of course, and crawling under her really didn't seem so smart once I gave it a good thought.  
My head hits the ground and for a long time my vision is dazed. My head feels like my brain was dancing around inside of it. I could see the world spin as I opened my eyes.  
She picks me up and slaps me hard with her hand. My head snaps to the left and I am caught off balance. Like the wonderful lady-like Indian woman I am, I spit blood out of my mouth onto the ground angrily. She was really testing me.  
I had had enough. I began attacking. I used every move in my repertoire to try and bury her in the dust.

_Be quicker Zafina! Faster! Don't even let her blink without seeing my palm hit her face!_ I yell this at myself in order to achieve some level of control over this fight...some control over myself.

Out of no where, the Capoeira user jumps up and spins her entire body in a 720 and kicks me hard. My body tumbles backwards and as I make my final landing on the ground, I feel a sudden pain in my arm. For a long agonizing moment, I think I have broken it. My body seemed to be giving up on me. I seemed to be giving up on my body.

But, I couldn't give up. Just like many of the people that participated in this tournament, I had a very important reason. I did not fly ten hours next to a fat man who didn't know his place when he slept just to go back home. I did not get scalding hot tea spilled on me just to lose. And certainly, I did not get kicked around like a hacky-sack just to submit to this provocative dressing _circus freak_!

Adrenaline and my basic human need to survive helped me stand and run to her. I crawled speedily in her direction, my hurting arm rested on top of my back. It was hard to crawl with only three limbs for support, but I managed. Quickly, I use much of my remaining strength to stand. As I try to, I feel my calf muscles tense and it strains me. My right arm was useless for the moment and my legs were relentlessly torturing me.

I did not hesitate to grab the back of her collar and spin her around. I punch her hard in the face and she stumbles back. Christie doesn't have time to fall before I kick her hard in the chest this time. She falls on her bottom and struggles to get up. I take this as a final opportunity. Hit now, or fail.  
I stand over her for only a second or two and then, I bring up my leg quickly and finally, I crash it down on her upper body. She falls out; her body limp and unmoving. I could hear her groaning in pain, but other than that, there was no other movement, no other noise. I rise; the fact that I had won had not completely sunk in yet.

"Winner: Zafina!" the announcer shouts, reassuring me of my triumph.

I look back at my opponent Christie Monteiro for the final time. A part of me felt sorrow for her, sympathy even. Her breathing was slow and even. Her hands were clenched into fists. I could tell she was trying to convince herself that she still had some fight left in her, like I had just a few moments ago, but unlike me, her body wasn't listening.

* * *

I go to the infirmary immediately after my match, not trusting myself enough to self-medicate and self-diagnose the pain in my arm. The doctor says it was a simple sprain and that with rest and a little ice, I would be ready to go to my next match the next day. Of course I knew it wouldn't be completely healed by the next evening, neither did the doctor, but I have been trained to handle situations like these and still be able to fight. I supposed he had assumed that as well. It's a given anyway; I was sure I wasn't the only one to be able fight when injured.

I walk out of the infirmary and rub my sprained arm, frowning that I allowed such an injury to happen. As I look down, I notice something terrible. My lucky, gold, crystal-studded bangle was missing! It was my most treasured gift because my mother had given it to me before she left this Earth. It was one of the very few things I had left to remember her by. I wore it in every fight, every special event in my life. It was my good luck charm. I had even worn it on that faithful day that I had defeated that unfamiliar army. I had been so stupid and neglectful to lose it!

Like an idiot, I run around searching for it everywhere. First, I venture to the outside of the arena I had fought in. Another group was fighting already, but before that they clean up spilled blood and other things of that nature and pick up anything that would belong to someone. Ergo, I could find my bangle in the Lost and Found outside of the arena!  
I comb through the receptacle meticulously but I come up empty, my efforts go in vain.  
I search in places I hadn't even been, hoping for some sort of miracle. Again, I can't find it. I thought back to everything I had done before the match, down to every millisecond.

_I took a shower...It could be on the bathroom counter but that's unlikely..._  
_I went to the cafeteria and ate...something. I have no idea what the people hear called it._  
_I went to the waiting area...  
_

"The waiting area! That's what the girl must have been shouting about!" I quietly exclaimed the revelation to myself. I ran back to the waiting room speedily and go back to my exact seat in the room, remembering the experience so vividly. I was looking at the girl with her large hair ties and white tracksuit. And I remember...I remember the man next to me with the crystal-blue eyes that looked so empty.  
I looked under my seat and under every other seat in that stupid room, but still found nothing. That girl must have taken it! I'm fuming and screaming at myself, chastising my stupidity and my carelessness.

I feel a tap on my arm as I continue to mumble swears under my breath. I don't hesitate to turn around and scream, "_What_?"

I look at the face of the receiver of my wrath and realize who it is.  
It was the mysterious man that sat next to me. In his other hand, he was holding my bangle, in the same clean condition it was in before I had misplaced it.I look at him questioningly and then replace that gaze with a grateful one.

"Thank you," I say sheepishly, taking my good luck charm from his hand gently. I bow quickly, to show some respect.

He says nothing. The mysterious man nods only once. He never gave an explanation on how he looked for me forever and how he had finally caught up to me and was just happy that it went back to its rightful owner. He just looked at me. Usually, "useless" conversations like that would aggravate me, but this time I expected it. I found it _aggravating _that he had said nothing. Not even a 'Your welcome'; just that same blank gaze.  
Not knowing what to do at this point, I say shyly, "Well, good luck at the tournament and thank you, again." I glance around nervously, still not knowing whether to walk away or wait until he does. I chose the former because that would be less awkward. I walk passed him and as soon as I do, I noticed that he walked the other way, without even a 'goodbye'.

"Strange," I say once I make it to my room. I slip the bangle on my wrist and hold it up to the light reflecting in the window.

_I must find out who he is._


	4. Allies

**Hi! Thanks for reading _The Quiet Ones_. These chapters are running along pretty smoothly. I hope you enjoy this next one!**

**P.S. Thank you for your feedback! I really appreciate them!**

**~M.o.t.C  
**

* * *

It was now time to get down to business. I had a lot to do before my next match and it wasn't going to get done with me blaming my laziness on the fact that my arm still ached. Even with all the fun I was having fighting, I could not lose sight of why I truly came here to Japan. My real reason was to find more about the stars in the tale I was told.

I gathered all of the notes I had taken previously about my astrological findings that could support this old story and I took it to a coffee shop a few blocks away from the arenas. Being alone in a hotel room made me feel a little...lonely. I don't like to have pointless conversations with people or socialize in general, but something about knowing you're not the only person in the room makes me feel more at ease. I guess the origins of these feelings come from me fighting an entire army on my own, being without a mother for as long as I have, and so many other things that I've had to face...all on my own. I suppose knowing that other people are around me makes me feel like I'm not so isolated. Even if it is a group of complete strangers.

I found an available seat next to a window, in the corner of the shop. It's the best place to be, in my opinion. Also, it's a good place to see everyone who enters and exits the store. Additionally, since it's in the way corner, no one can sneak up behind you. I suppose this is just my paranoia talking.

I order a medium coffee and something called a scone and take out my notes. With a pen in my hand, I review what I had written down. I realize just then how sloppy my handwriting is. My notes are in Hindi instead of English, both are official languages of my land. My English isn't as good as it could be and writing it is even more difficult than speaking it.  
As I took one final look over my work I noticed that something was wrong. The data I had collected about the stars from previous findings didn't seem logical at all. Of course, I could have never recorded these things wrong so...what went wrong?  
Or right?

"Hey it's you!"  
That voice. It is so familiar yet as I look up from my studies, I wonder why I'm hearing it again. The American southern accent undertone that leaves her mouth with that annoying voice of hers...Julia Chang. I give her that same look of blatant annoyance as I look into her eyes. She's standing over me, smiling down. Her hand is up like she had been waving at me despite the fact that I hadn't known she was there until she spoke.  
"What are you doing here?" I asked harshly in a hushed voice.  
"Ah, a lot of competitors come here for a relaxing drink of coffee and some peace and quiet before their next match," she says, showing no sign of leaving.  
"Funny," I say sarcastically, "I don't seem to be relaxing or receiving any peace and quiet right now." I hope she detects the added irritability in my voice so that she may leave me alone. She does, but she gives not the response that I was looking for.

"Am I upsetting you?" Julia says her voice is slightly less happy, as well as her gaze, "I don't know why, but you don't seem like you're one to make a lot of friends."  
I don't take offense to the comment, rather, I relish in it, "No, really?"

I was feeling very sarcastic that day, I guess. She frowns for a second or two and then pears at my notes. I had made a promise to myself that I would let no one else see these astronomical jottings. Even if they were just facts mixed with theories of my own.

I purposely slam my entire arm on top of the legal pad, covering almost all of the annotations, as I reach for the plate that separated my scone from the table. I lift it up to her, while still keeping my arm over the pad and offer it. She looks at me for what seems like years and then out of no where, she laughs. She laughs hysterically.

"What's so funny?" I call over her laughter. I think we received many stares from other people at the coffee shop, though I hadn't taken my eyes off the hysterical woman in front of me.

"If you didn't want me to see what you were writing, you could have just said so," she chuckled a little, "Instead of doing something so bizarre!"

I smirk a little, realizing how right she was. I could have just told her to go jump off a building and leave my notes be, but that would have been mean. I put down the plate and removed my arm from the middle of the table.  
I sigh heavily and think over what I was about to do one final time. Finally, I say, "Please sit. It must be cumbersome to have to stand like that." The words tasted like vinegar.  
Julia smiles and pulls out the chair across from me and sits. I sigh again, wondering why I did that. I continue to analyze my annotations and for a while, Julia Chang does not disturb me.

"So, what's your name?" she says finally.  
"Zafina," I reply flatly. I hadn't look up from the legal pad.

"Ooh," she exclaims as if she had uncovered something, "So you were that one that went up against Christie? The newbie, huh? Well, you're _one_ of the newbies."

"Yea," I agree absently, "who else is new?"

Just when I hear her take a breath of air, probably because of the long answer she was going to give, I hear another familiar voice. I look up and see the Asian girl that had tried to warn me of my abandoned bangle. She's waving at us and walking toward us as Julia calls her over.

"Over here, Xiaoyu!" she exclaims.  
_  
Xiaoyu, is it?_ I think, finally able to put a name to a face.  
The girl arrives finally and Julia introduces us.  
"I have much to thank you for, Miss Ling. Thank you for trying to warn me of my bangle," I say, bowing to her quickly.  
The young girl holds one hand up and shakes it vigorously. She starts speaking in Japanese and I look at Julia for an answer.

"'No, no.' She says, 'Thank the other one next to you. He said that he would take it for me. He never actually spoke, but you could tell that's what he meant when he took it.' " she translated.

"Oh," I murmur, "I did. Thank you anyway."

"Oh Xiaoyu," Julia says in English, then in Japanese, "I was just about to tell Zafina who the other newbies are here. Give me a hand would you? I forget some." The girl nods and waits for her cue, pulling up a chair to sit with us.

"OK," Julia starts, "so I know there's a Spaniard name Miguel here. His martial art is Garyuno Kenka. Alisa Bosconovitch is also new-"

"Bosconovitch?" I interrupt, "you mean like Dr. Bosconovitch the Russian scientist?" Julia and Xiaoyu nod.

"She's a robot though," Julia continues. Moving on, "There's also Lars Alexandersson. He's Swedish and I don't know his style. There's also Bob, a very large American. And by large I mean...huge fat!" She asks the pigtails girl if she had forgotten anyone and Xiaoyu shakes her head.  
I look over to my left, opposite the window, to the other side of the coffee shop. I see not as many people as I had seen before...But that didn't matter because immediately, I had seen the Quiet One. Since I did not know his name, the only thing I could think to call him was what he was. A silent mystery.

He was reading a book of some sort, his eyes seemed a little more animated. He seemed completely wrapped in what he was reading. I understood the feeling. I recalled the time my mother had given me a book of famous epics. I had read the entire book, cover to cover in two days. I only stopped to eat and take care of personal hygiene. My mind wandered into the places the heroes ventured to and I felt as if I was really there. For the first time since I had gotten to this country, I smiled genuinely. I turn back around quickly before he can see me looking.

"Oh there he is," Xiaoyu says in English this time once she sees me looking.

"Is he new?" I ask.  
"Relatively," Julia answers, "he was only here for the last tournament. This is his second one. Like that Rochefort girl. I don't know him. Do you, Xiao?"  
"Doragunofu Serugei," she says in the Japanese pronunciation.

"Oh that's right! Sergei Dragunov! Russian. SPETSNAZ. I'm not sure of his fighting style though," Julia says quietly. SPETSNAZ? Wasn't that some fancy-pants Russian military base that dealt with things regular, everyday people didn't know about? Or what they're unsure about themselves and something that regular military forces couldn't handle themselves?

He looks too young to be with that sort of organization. He only looks a little older than me. Yeah, I'm one to talk. I had been in this assassin game since I was seventeen. But something about it seemed...scary new revelation made me think of him as vicious. Attractive. The pieces were starting to fit together now in a pretty little picture. No doubt someone apart of an organization like that was cold-blooded. Heartless. Like yours truly.

I think back to how he was when I had first seen him. His eyes were completely vacant of any emotion. Is this how he is in Russia when commanding and when under command? For the moment, that's all I can focus on.

"Yo, Zafina, you in there?" Julia snaps me out of my thoughts, her hand waves in front of my face. I blink and realize that I hadn't blinked since I looked over in _that_ direction.

Julia puts her arm down and smiles at me, "You checkin' him out? Because I'm pretty sure the Library of Russian Cuties is open for business."  
I sneer at her, "Of course I'm not. And please, don't ever use library terms like that again. Ever." Xiaoyu next to me was stifling a laugh. Apparently she found this situation funny.  
For a moment...a split second...I thought I heard another girl's laugh. It wasn't Julia's. It was mine.

* * *

I had gotten back from the coffee shop and realized that I had not checked to see who I was going to be fighting next. I wasn't overly thrilled about it. My opponent was probably just another slutty dressing girl that wasn't worth my effort. Oh well. This time, the line to the list wasn't as extensive. There was a black man wearing boxing tape on his hands and legs with the little hair he had tied back in a ponytail. There was also a blonde-haired girl (...no boy...no girl...) in a fashionable jacket and jeans. Once they had left, I stepped up and saw my name immediately.  
I was to face someone named...  
"Panda?" I mumble aloud. _Is that an alias? _  
I was very curious so I scrolled my eyes down the page until I see S. Dragunov. Once I do, I slide my eyes again horizontally until I see the name...  
_Xiaoyu...Ling..._

At that moment, I felt something. I don't know what it was, but I do know where it came from. Two people I had felt non-hateful feelings for were going to fight head to head and...only one of them would make it out to continue. I was torn.  
I know you're thinking "Choose Xiaoyu duh!" After all, I knew more about her. I had actually _talked_ to her on occasion. But I don't know; there was something about _him_. I wanted my chance to meet him. Actually _talk_.

"Ooh! You got Panda! I'm torn!"

I turned around quickly and because of her startling me, as a defensive reflex, I kick swiftly for her head without even recognizing who she was...  
Xiaoyu dodged my kick swiftly and and flipped backwards for what I was guessing was precaution.

"It's me, Xiao!" she shouts in her shrilly voice. Others around us were stifling laughter and whispering things.

I walked up to her and apologized for my behavior.  
"It's okay. You get really paranoid after a while here," she says sweetly, "Well, good luck! Even though I love Panda...I'll root for you! As long as me or Panda makes it, I guess it's fine."

I blinked, "Why? Who are they to you?"

"Panda's my bodyguard," she says in English, "apparently she entered the competition. I'll have to ask her about that later."

"Xiaoyu," I begin, certain this will help me make my decision, "if you don't mind me asking...Why did you enter the tournament this time?"

The Chinese girl didn't speak for a long time, but then, "I'm in it because...You have heard of the Kazamas yes?"

I nod, "Who hasn't? This new head of the Mishima Zaibatsu...he's causing problems all over the world...in my country, too. He's Kazama, yes?" I swear at myself in my head, my English was faltering again.

Xiaoyu looked down and seemed very solemn. I started wishing that I didn't have such a big mouth.

"Yes, he is. He's the reason...why I am here. I want to..."-she looked as if she was about to cry at this moment-"I just..."

I hate seeing people cry. It's unsightly. I feel so awkward when I see tears roll down another face. I feel the same when I see myself cry, too. I had heard about what people do in these situations; right now a tear just fell from Xiaoyu's eye, so I was running out of time. I decided to give her a hug. I wasn't very good at affectionate moments like these, so I knew it was going to come out looking awkward when I tried.

"Don't cry," I said in a way that made me seem like I was chomping on sandpaper and cork screws. I wrap my arms around the somber girl and tell her it's okay and that she doesn't need to say anymore.

_Good luck, my friend._

"I know you'll do well. I'm rooting for you, "I said as we continued the embrace, "'Even if it doesn't work out, I'm sure you will find a way.' That's what my mother used to say to me."

"Arigatou," she says, the one word she's said all week that I could understand fully.

"Douitashimashite," I say testing my Japanese.

Xiaoyu laughed, "It sounds like you're saying 'Don't touch my mustache'!"

I laugh, too and for the moment, everything is alright in my world.

* * *

**Yea, don't worry. I won't make Zafina too OOC. Although I'm thinking...even though I've only intro'd Sergei like...3 times in 4 chapters...is he getting OOC? These are all things I have to be careful of next chapter. If you feel that they are getting too out of character then please don't hesitate to say so. I'd hate to butcher two perfectly good characters. xD TYVM!**


	5. Wrong

**Hello. Thank you for all of the great feedback and responses. Quickly, I would just like to say that these next chapters would probably go a little slower than planned. I'm in a situation right now that I can't use the computer as much as I'd like to. Plus, I'm going through a little bit of writer's block. I'm going to have to review over previous chapters and make notes to myself before I can continue on. Plus, I will be switching the PoV for the next installment. (From Zafina's to Sergei's :D) **

* * *

I went through my daily rituals quickly that evening as my match was at 7:00 PM. All the rest of the day, I couldn't stop thinking about Xiaoyu and how I had actually considered rooting for someone I had never met! If anything, after all the self-chastising I had done for saying something wrong or for my absent mind or a mistake on the battle arena, I should have given myself a huge kick in the butt for this one! What was wrong with me?

He was what was wrong with me; that's what. The first time I laid my eyes on him, that was the breaking point for me. The breaking point for my common sense, my sanity. You might think I'm going a bit far with this whole "thing" I have for someone I've never actually talked to before. In fact, I'm thinking it myself. But, I can't help it. I have never felt this way about anyone before.

All of the boys back in my village were either jerks, disgustingly unhygienic, or unintelligent. They all disliked me. One apparently thought I was too much of a woman for him (he put heavy emphasis on the man part). But, I wasn't missing out on much because he always smelled like fish and was terrible at math. In short, there were no good catches in my village in India. None at all.

I sigh and continue through my rituals and hurry to the arenas. I was curious about who this Panda was. They must be good if they are a bodyguard of Xiaoyu Ling. I still don't understand why such a great martial artist as herself would need someone to guard her.

When I arrive, I immediately notice the scarcity of the amount of people in the room. There was probably only about twelve people left. That included me. Ergo, by next match there would only be six people. I started feeling a little queasy again. Things were obviously getting tough. I looked for anyone who might fit the profile of a bodyguard.

There was a black guy in shades. I knew him from somewhere. Oh, right. He was part of some organization that no one knew about. No one knows who he is. He didn't seem like the type that would look after and protect a young girl like Xiaoyu. I move on. I saw no one else that looked like they would be named Panda or be a potential bodyguard for the young teenage girl. I decided that I would just have to wait and find out who this person was.

I didn't have to wait long. Within minutes of my arrival, I was called down to arena five along with my opponent and my acquaintance's bodyguard. My butterflies had come and gone by the time I was in the surprising serenity of the arena. It looked like just some random dojo and its backyard was a calm, quiet forest. There was a fallen tree on one side. Wind blew in all directions and tossled my hair. I felt calm and happy. My butterflies disappeared.

Out of nowhere, a giant bear entered the arena. I almost screamed, "A bear! Someone help! A bear has gotten loose!" but then, I saw that it was a giant panda bear. The pieces finally started to fit together in my head. Xiaoyu's bodyguard...was a panda? I was going to take on a bear?

I sighed and got into my stance wondering all the while why they let animals enter the competition.

* * *

**Above, I mentioned the change of the PoV. This is mainly the reason why the chapter is so short because I am focusing on Sergei and how he might talk if he did. Again, thank you for your support, great comments, and patience.**

**~M.o.t.C**


	6. Useless Thoughts

**Thanks for reading! This took me a long time and in the end, I didn't go through with my original plan of switching PoVs. I had written a draft of Sergei's PoV and as some of you might have feared...it didn't work out too well. I decided to do a third-person-omniscient PoV instead. One day, and I hope that day will be soon, I will feel confident enough to give Sergei a clear, outspoken voice...until then, frowny face.**

**~M.o.T.C**

* * *

Sergei Dragunov smiled. He rarely did so. In fact, it had been about three months since he had _genuinely_ done so and the last time was something of a fluke. He was trying to get rid of some Asian girl that sat next to him while he was waiting to be called for a match. She was groaning about the other woman next to him that had left her bracelet or something. The Russian decided to take care of it himself since the oblivious woman did not come back for her charm. He smiled so that it would win over the girl's trust, but not because he was happy or anything of that sort. At any rate, do people really need reassure themselves of their feelings by showing it physically? Or to reassure others?

This is probably one of the reasons why he strayed from showing much emotion on his face. If he was happy, the Russian felt that he was the only one that needed to know it. If he were angry or sad should anyone else know? Does any one even care? No. Another valid reason was because of his job. Being so young in that line of work...it affects you. It hardens your heart. It also means that immediately after you step in the front door, you are judged. Young automatically means weak. Letting your emotions get the best of you in that sort of environment...it's unforgivable. Showing emotion is showing weakness. Weakness is unacceptable.

Nonetheless, he was smiling. He was getting closer to his ultimate goal. The SPETSNAZ agents back home in Russia will praise him. He will live up to his title _The White Angel of Death_. Russia has always ruled over others; much like Great Britain. Dragunov is determined to not let this change. This victory...this ultimate triumph that would represent the awesome power of Russia...this made the emotionless, taciturn man smile.

The Mishima Zaibatsu needed to fall for the Russian government to rise and right now, Sergei Dragunov was the only one to make sure that this ultimate goal was achieved. It was all on him now.

For Russia. For the world.

And what was with that woman with the missing bangle? Sergei understood she was happy, but she seemed to be smiling an awful lot. He is also bad at interpreting other people's emotions. Why was she smiling so much? The Russian almost thought she was nervous or something but why would she be nervous? He has seen her around before. Her face is always smug and tense, like she's shielding herself from the world. He had seen her glare at that spiky-haired Asian boy. It was a glare that could strike fear into anyone's heart. But when she looked at him...

Sergei sighed. He never really understood women. Hell, even his own mother was hard to get. They do all of these odd things and for what? A few seconds of attention? They all loved to make men uncomfortable. No wonder they had a higher life-expectancy rate. They caused so much drama around them when it is so unnecessary.

But wait, _she_ doesn't seem like that type. She seems like the type of person not to take crap from anyone, but also not willing to get into some catty fight because of it. She avoided conflict. Yet, even this contradicted his previous thought about her. She seems tough, a girl that likes a good fight. He noticed she was always smiling when she walked away from the list of competitors. She seemed to be a walking contradiction.

This raised another question: Why did he care? She wasn't anyone he knew from anywhere. Yet, he seemed to notice her do more things than anyone else that entered the competition even more than that Raven character or whatever his name is. Honestly, Sergei Dragunov did not have a reason. He didn't know _why. _Maybe it was because he had subtly noticed her noticing him and therefore this made him notice her more.

Why was he rambling on about these things? He was having a conversation with himself about emotions and women and..._her_. It's amazing how close the Russian was to even disallowing not only talking, but thinking as well. All of his ridiculous thoughts were time consuming and irrelevant to the task hand.

_Just stop thinking all together._

This was another reason why he didn't speak. There was too much useless conversation. He hated when people gossiped senselessly; speaking evil about humans they barely knew. He also hated when people wasted his time. He'd heard of the saying, "Time is money," but money has nothing to do with it. To him, time is "the continuum of experience in which events pass from the future through the present to the past" and the more you _wasted_ it, the less _experiences_ the quiet Russian could have. (And mindless conversation was not on his list of "Wanted Encounters".)

He'd much rather spend his time duelling or reading or singing or maybe he'd much rather spend his time taking over the world or taking long walks on the beach. Who knows? But anything would be better than talking to people.

Of course he _can_ talk. For many of his school years, he was at the top of his class. He engaged in intelligent conversation and class discussions daily. He was never the social type in school. He strayed from making friends; even _that_ seemed useless. And when he was in martial arts classes, he excelled ahead of everyone. "Fighting is his strong-point," many of his senseis and instructors commented.

Sergei loved fighting. There was something about the adrenaline rush when his foot came in contact with someone's chin. There was something about the surge of emotion he felt when the fight was just about to end, when he was about to win. He loves all of it, everything that had to do with the thrill of the fight.

There was only one thing he loved just as much, if not more. It was singing. When you look at him, look into his glacial, detached eyes and look at his stoic, uninterested face you would never think that this sort of man would love or appreciate anything of beauty. Singing is beautiful. It is a true connection to the soul and it spreads emotion throughout the soul and body like wildfire. And not just for the person singing, but the persons listening as well.

Sergei appreciates the sound of opera, ever since he was a boy. His mother would play Vladimir Rosing for him on her record player and he'd listen intently for the deep, richness in the tenor's voice and secretly wish that he could sing so well. Whenever he'd hear Rosing carry a very long note he'd time it and marvel admiringly.

Many operas have made him shed tears, made him feel emotions he never knew he could. That was something only the beauty of singing could do.

Sergei Dragunov sighed again. These little trips down memory lane did him some good. He guessed they made him happier, more ready to take on his next oponent. He never did check to see who exactly who that was; in fact, he never did. It doesn't matter to him much. The only thing that truly matters is that he wins.

The determined Russian checked his watch once and realized that he had less than two minutes to get to the Tournament.


	7. Translation

**Hello. It's been a while. (Well, to me it's been too long since I have updated.) So I'm just going to cut to the chase and let you read.**

* * *

"A...a panda?" I mumble.

For a moment, I contemplate the possibility of me being mentally insane. Maybe that last coffee I had was one too many. I started to think that the teenager that gave me that said coffee slipped something in it. I tried to come up with anything to explain why a giant panda was in front of me. I assumed everything except the truth.

During my short time here, I have come to realize that almost anything can happen. Almost everyone you can possibly imagine and the few that you can't you can find here. People from all over the world journey to one small location in one small country to do the thing that they enjoy; or to just simply win for reasons that vary so greatly. I have seen many outside-competition brawls break out; eventually being broken up by Iron Fist Tournament officials and Mishima Zaibatsu guards before they escalated into anything more than what they were.

The stage looked like something out of the Alps. Huge, towering mountains; beautiful, flowery scenery and lush, slopping hills.

Now that I was thinking about it in the ring, I could faintly remember a kangaroo. Two actually. One baby and a mother. What possible reasons would they have to enter the competition?

I hear the bell ring, and instantly get into my stance. The panda doesn't seem to have a stance. Not that I'm surprised that an animal hasn't studied basic martial arts. I figured it probably just used its overpowering size and brute strength to win its battles.

I control my breathing, making myself calm for challenge ahead. Letting my chakras flow through me, I let my body become like water. Water is free, yet controlled. It flows to the rhythm of its on beat yet can compose itself in a blink of an eye and be one of the most deadly forces this world has ever known. Elegant. Graceful. Volatile. Water.

_My body is fluid. It is unattached from my normal physical and mental limitations. It is guided only by my spiritual power. My body is fluid...my body is fluid. _

I prepare my mind and my spirit for the fight which has already started to begin. I wait for the panda to attack, just so I can get a feel for what it does in situations like this. The animal moves closer and goes for my leg in one swift movement with its paw. I step back quickly and kick the panda on its upper belly. I stayed in the scarecrow stance for a moment; analyzing the animals next move.

Looking at its entire figure, I realized that on its arms, there were two bracelets; one for each arm. They resembled greatly to Xiaoyu's. I recalled then that the Chinese girl had told me about this panda being her bodyguard.

Lost in my thoughts, my mind seemed to have skipped over the image of the panda coming towards me with a paw reaching for my face. My reaction was slower and the prize I received for my huge error was a clawed paw to the face. I screamed out in pain and held a hand to my face which was bleeding from the three parallel scratches that ran through the left side of my face, narrowly missing my eye. It again barrages me with wild swings and then some kicks. My ankles were now bruised and the backs of my arms were also covered in multiple scratches from guarding my face.

I felt the sting of my wounds as the animal swung its arms wildly, sending a mass of airflow my way. This was insane. Who had ever heard of a hunter killing a bear or even a deer with their bare hands? No weapons? I wasn't going to kill it of course, but I couldn't even see how I could get a knock out.

Running out of ideas of how to get the upper hand, I just waited until the panda shifted into a more opportunistic position so that I could find a good place to begin my assault, but I had to realize that I was running short on time, so I had to make my move immediately.

"Consider those the last hits you will ever make, Panda," I say, a little angrily I must admit. Never before in a fight have I ever bled like this.

I chose not to get in my Tarantula stance. Like before, being near feet with a fighter that uses mostly their lower appendages would not be as smart as just staying standing. Instead, I delivered steady, constant kicks to the animal's belly until it finally crashed backwards. I did not stop however. Only until it fell did I continue on my hands and feet.

_Flow...and then strike! Flow...strike!_ I commanded myself in my thoughts as I continued the onslaught.

Finally I rise and surprisingly, the panda rises quickly along with me. I drew a sharp breath at the pain I was feeling that was coursing throughout me. However, I was prepared for the next part of this battle. Bringing my arms out wide and then crossing them quickly and swiftly, yet violently, I strike with my hands and then deliver one final kick, ending in my scarecrow stance. I was finding it pretty difficult to stand on my own two feet and now I was trying not to scream standing on one.

The animal stays down for a few seconds, but then rises as I try to quickly catch my breath. (And that wasn't because of the constant attacking, but because I found this fight so very exhilarating!) I was confident that I would win again. And that confidence only made me feel more hope that Xiaoyu was winning her battle.

* * *

Walking back to my hotel room to soak in a nice hot bathtub and then bandage my wounds. After all, I was finding it increasingly hard to walk. The panda had scratched my ankles and battered my legs. I was sure the bruises were clearly visible from Mars. But, as I walked agonizingly up the steps to my room I couldn't help but hear sobbing.

And then, "Zafina!"

I automatically recognized that it was indeed Julia Chang who had called for my attention and I couldn't help feeling a pang of guilt because I knew what this would be about before I looked up. But, I looked up anyway and saw a sad-faced Julia Chang holding a crying Ling Xiaoyu in her arms at the top of the stairs. I sigh quietly and make my way upstairs, quickening my pace a little. I grunt a little in-between steps before finally making it to the stopping point before the next flight of stairs.

"Xiaoyu," I begin curiously, though I'm not curious as to what is happening, because I am already aware, "did you not make it?"

The sobbing girl only shook her head. She kept her head firmly in place in the palms of her hands. Julia Chang's features seemed to sink, her smile faded.

"We were both so sure she was going to win that fight," Julia started, her voice melancholic, "Your little crush crushed her."

"I'm sorry, Xiaoyu," I say, "But, I guess what they say is true; the silent ones are always the most deadly."

Julia took one shocked look at me and for a moment I thought she had somehow magically uncovered that I had for a small moment I had secretly wished that the silent Russian won instead of Xiaoyu. But then, I heard the crying Asian sputter and then giggle and then Julia laughed out loud. It was loud and hysterical and then Xiaoyu joined in on the laughter.

"W-what did I say?" I stutter in embarrassment. My cheeks blushed a crimson red.

"Usually that saying, 'silent but deadly' is used to describe"-Julia stifled another outburst of laughter-"flatulence!" And then the two laughing females' hysterical howling got louder until it became unbearably awkward.

"I'm sorry; my English slang isn't so good!" I apologize rapidly.

After their howling rage of laughter, Julia and I both tried our best to comfort Xiaoyu after this loss. Fortunately, she had some words of wisdom for us.

"If either of you guys fight him," she tried to say in English, "don't let him attack you or let him find out where you are most weak. There's no mercy after that."

We both nod. No mercy? Sounds fun to me. Very, very fun. If I were to fight him, I think that fight would be more interesting than any other I have participated in. I smiled slightly at the idea, hoping neither girl next to me could see.

I give Xiaoyu one final hug goodbye, savoring it somewhat, and then take leave to my room. I had much to do before the next match next week.

_First on my list is to take a bath, jeez..._

_

* * *

_

**So, I sort of rushed this one because it took me so long to do...**

**Wait...did that make sense? Okay so I rushed it at the _end_ because in the beginning and middle it was taking me too long. Yea, that's better. Anyway, I know I sort of rushed and maybe didn't really finish the fight scene. Well, I think that if Zafina is confident that she is going to win then do we really need to read a a whole scene when we know she's right and she's going to win anyway? Okay, I did not mean to sound like a jerk when I said that...it's just true. Plus, it relieves my stress not having to write such a long fight scene. And then I can focus on more pointless detail when I write about the other parts of the chapter.**

**Also, if you don't get the flow strike thing...uhm to me, when Zafina is in her stance, her body seems to flow like water yet stay control. Interpret her movements how you will, that's just how I interpret it.**

**Anyway, thanks for the reviews and the support!**

**~M.o.t.C**


	8. Sociability Test

**Took me a long time, I know. I needed a much needed break. I was starting to see things... xD**

**Anyway, it's long so that's good I guess. It all depends.**

**I forgot to say this last time: I got Tekken 6! WOOO! Thank God for straight A's! I have immediately noticed the changes between T5: DR and T6: BR. NANCY MI-8 WHATEVER IS PISSING ME OFF! The difficulty of Azazel is, too. Guess who's story I unlocked first when I got it? That's right...**

**BOB.**

**Just kidding...it was really Dragunov. WOOHOO. I plowed through Azazel with Sergei my Russian buddy! FTW Russian military martial arts!**

**Anyway enjoy!**

* * *

As aforementioned, I am not the social type. I have not strived to make friends. I could pack up and leave anywhere at the drop of a hat and not feel homesick. I wouldn't feel longing for any friends I had left behind. Leaving would be so easy for me. I don't know if that's just because I'm just some anti-social, lonely little girl inside, or is it something deeper? I wonder, truly wonder, if I am a coward. If this feeling of being able to leave whenever it's necessary, even when it's not...if it's just me wanting to run away. But, what am I running from? It dawns on me now that I am the cowardly lion. On the outside, I may seem so tough and I might have the skills to prove that strength, but when it really comes down to it, I hide. I run. My cowardice is the ultimate victor.

This is why I really can't bring myself to talk to the one called Sergei. I am a coward. I'm afraid of his reaction the moment I open my mouth.

"Ha-ha-ha! Jesus Zafina! You aren't a coward!" Julia says after I had told her about my feelings. We were going shopping for some reason. The American native told me we were going someplace and I needed to look my best.

"This is natural! You're just...nervous...yea, nervous. That's all. Aw, my little girl's growing up. Her first crush has finally arrived!"

I laughed. Julia really knew how to make any situation funny. Even in the worst of situations, she finds a way to laugh. She finds a way to have fun. Maybe this is why I didn't mind having her around.

"Hey Zafina," Julia called from inside a dressing room, "could you come take a look at this?"

It took a second for me to finally go inside. I had to think it over for a small moment because ever since I was a little girl, I had always been afraid of small, closed spaces. Again, I blame this small fact of my personality on my paranoia. But, if Julia was not confident enough to show me what she was wearing outside of the dressing room, then the least I could do is suck it up and go in there for her sake.

I stepped inside the small fitting room and look at the Chinese cowgirl next to me. She didn't look so much like a Native American and southern in what she was wearing. It was a form-fitting dress, barely thigh-length; it was black and had a low-cut neckline that showed more cleavage than I thought Julia had. The dress had short sleeves. The entire dress was a flowing satin. It looked expensive.

"Looks expensive," I say, "but maybe if you do something great with your hair it won't look so...trashy."

Julia smiled, "But, tell me I _don't_ look like the sexy, nerdy, innocent librarian, right?"

I had no idea what she was talking about. I raised my eyebrow in questioning and the Arizonan only shook her head. She pulled on her left braid with both hands and frowned.

"Yea, I know I should but...I have no idea what to do with it," the young woman sighed in dissatisfaction.

I sighed. Why women like myself obsessed over their hair and looks so much baffled me. I guess when you're beating the hell out of everything that breathes you sort of forget about how you look doing it. Julia was pretty attractive, I suppose. She had beautiful, long, chocolate colored hair and rosy cheeks. Her body was muscular but not overly so. She had dazzling brown eyes and full lips. She was pretty heavy-set, too. The only real down-side for Julia in terms of looks was the geeky vibe her appearance gave off. Some days she had worn pink, oval, slightly large glasses that disguised her pretty eyes. Her regular day fashion choices weren't the most flattering either. But, nonetheless, Julia was pretty physically attractive. Her sense of humor and kind nature only added to that.

I smiled; Julia Chang really was a good friend. It made me wonder why a nice girl like her would want to befriend a bitter, spiteful Indian woman like me. I push the thought aside for a second and focus my attention on Arizonan's apparent "dilemma".

"I'm pretty good with hair," I say, "I could do it for you. You'll be looking great in no time."

She stares at me and it was starting to make me uncomfortable.

"What?" I said, "What did I say now?"

Then, she does the completely unexpected; she wraps her arms around me and engages me in a hug. I crane my neck away from her head, wanting as little contact as possible. I don't hug back. She knew how much I hated physical contact and yet, she was _hugging_ me.

"W-why are you doing...this..." I said. My voice was strained from trying to hold back the violent side that lay dormant within me. I _really_ didn't like hugging.

She let go spontaneously and apologized. She thanked me for my kindness which I was considering taking back at that moment.

"Fine, fine," I replied irritably, "just don't do that again." The self-proclaimed sexy librarian nodded.

"What did you get by the way?" she had asked me once she had finished paying for her dress.

I had bought mine a long time before Julia had bought hers. It was a dark blue dress, short, sleeveless with a large, black belt around the waist. I had bought black lace, fingerless gloves and thigh length, black stockings to go with it. I had a black pair of high heels to go with it. Wherever we were going better have been worth the effort I was putting in.

"Wow," Julia exclaimed when she heard my plans for an outfit, "Somehow I cannot imagine you in that."

I wondered why, though I didn't say anything. I could picture myself perfectly in it. It really sold me when I actually saw it on me. It wasn't too tight or baggy and it fit my curves pretty well. I loved it.

Whatever we were going to be doing, I really hope it was worth the 7000 yen I just spent.

* * *

Julia drives us to our destination after we leave my hotel room. We were both clad in our dresses and makeup and I had to admit: Julia did look a million times better after I did her hair. I had straightened and curled it and then tied most of it up into a bun, saving some of the front for curly bangs. She really seemed to like it.

"I love it!" she says when I hand her a mirror. Her glasses were gone and makeup finished her look.

In return, the young female did my hair. She straightened it then layered it with one straight bang over a part of my left eye. She did manage to make my hair sleek, shinny, and edgy yet soft looking at the same time. She was better than what she gave herself credit for. I looked better than I thought I would, that's for sure. At first, the crazy American wanted to cut my hair, saying that the style would go better with the dress, but I had had enough of cutting my hair. I used to do it all the time because in the tough times in my village, they'd cut all of the girl's hair to sell to wig manufacturers. This was the longest my hair had ever gotten and I wasn't ready to part with it.

As Julia drove, I kept wondering where she was taking us. I hated surprises. I had seen videos on television of people being surprised and something terrible (but funny) would happen to the surpriser. Like this one video where it was Halloween in America and this one man hid in some sort of garbage or recycle bin in some sort of scary costume and when he popped out, the guy he was trying to scare spun and punched him in the face! If a regular guy was capable of that, there was no telling what I would do. After all, I am very skilled in the martial art that I practice...I _could_ kill someone. Like that one time I almost kicked Xiaoyu Ling into the opposite wall...

Xiaoyu Ling. A wave of sadness washed over me. And guilt. I still had not gotten over the fact that I, for a small moment, had cheered for some stranger that I had yet to talk to. In my village in India, treachery like that would get all of your hair cut off and maybe even your toenails ripped from your toes. My village had the mentality of your average Italian family. Family _first_. Petty crushes and anyone else outside the family always came last. And to me, Xiaoyu was like family. She and Julia had both grown on me.

Lost in my thoughts, I had not noticed that we had arrived (rather quickly, I must say) to our destination until I heard the driver's side car door slam. Julia had already exited and knocked on the passenger side window, signaling for me to get out. I exited the car and closed the door behind me.

Looking dead ahead I saw the large sign, _Mishima Country Club_. The Mishima Zaibatsu had a country club? Japan has country clubs? Before I could ask Julia why in the world we were here, she had already made her way up to the front gates. I sped walked to catch up with her, my heels clicking away on the pavement.

Once we were within the gates of the club, I asked the American girl why we were there. She said to be patient and that it was a surprise. I then remembered the video I had mentioned earlier.

"It's on your head," I mumbled.

"What?" she asked, not hearing my words.

"Nothing," I said and continued on.

We entered into the country club clubhouse after an encounter with a security guard who made it seem like the utmost importance that we were on some list he was holding. So apparently, Julia must have pulled some major strings to get me and herself into this country club I never knew existed.

This whole view changed when I saw the inside of the clubhouse. Every single person in the room was a competitor in the Iron Fist Tournament! I was surprised, but not in the way I had anticipated.

"Where are we?"

Julia laughed as she led us to a table in the country club dining room. It was a small but elegant room. Pure white linen covered tables along with a small floral arrangement that acted as the center piece. Gold chairs and table legs tied in wonderfully with the dark yellow walls. Small gold plates were in front of every chair, which was about four per table. The decor seemed very Western for a Japanese country club (if there really was such a thing). Of course, there was a hint or two of Asian influence. Porcelain vases in some corners held long bamboo stalks.

"I took your invitation," Julia's says once we were seated. I raised my eyebrow, a little upset that she stole my mail. The American shook her head and raised her hand, "I wasn't going to do anything bad. Once I realized that you hadn't read it yet, I decided to surprise you with it."

"Why?" It didn't make sense. I could have just gone and met her there. Oh wait...

"Because even though it's mandatory you would have found some way out of it."

Exactly. I could have called in sick or something. If not for Julia, I would have found some way out of going.

"Normally," Julia began after asking a passing waiter for two glasses of champagne, "I would condone skipping out on something like this but...look who's here." The American's head tilted to the side and she waved at someone who was behind me.

Who was she waving to? Look who's here? Julia was the only one I talked to here... that I even acknowledged. Unless she somehow managed to get my apparent "crush" to be friendly, I was at a loss as to whom she was referring. I turned my head, and my lips twitched upward and my eyes widened in shock, but mostly joy. It was Xiaoyu Ling. She was heading towards us now.

The young Chinese girl was wearing a beautiful red, strapless dress with a black ribbon belt around the waist. It was tied into a neat little bow on the front. The bottom of the dress had ruffles, the garment as a whole looked silky and elegant. I was impressed. Xiaoyu's hair was still in two ponytails at either side of her head, but they were curly ponytails, the neon rings holding them up were red as well. She wore black high heels and red neon bracelets. She was stunning!

"Hi, guys," she says, her voice still shrilly. It reminded me however older she looked in that outfit she was still the same, innocent, nineteen-year old girl.

I got up from my seat, hoping to just shake hands, but no...She also felt the need to get a little too familiar with me. Her hug was warm and inviting, I must say, but I couldn't allow myself to hug her back. Of course, I had hugged her back at the message board, but that was only because I wanted her to stop crying.

After she had let go, she hugged Julia hello and Julia gladly hugged back. For a small moment, I wondered why I couldn't be like that. Why couldn't I let people in? Why did I always insist on keeping my wall up? But then I knocked myself out of it. I am me, this all I can ever hope to be. If people don't like it, then they can just F off because I'm only going to change myself if I feel it necessary; if I think that what I'm trying to change is detrimental to myself. For no other reason will I change. No.

"Why are you here?" I asked once they had let go of each other, "I mean it's not like I'm not happy you're here but..."

"They let me back in!" The Chinese girl said; her voice still shrilly.

"Someone dropped out at the last minute," Julia elaborated, "So then there were only fifteen people left in the competition, an odd number. They brought back Xiao since she was the last person to be eliminated before the drop-out; to make it even."

I nodded. It made sense. So there are really sixteen people left in the competition. Turns out that this dinner party was a sort of quarter-finals celebration. Gosh, I hate parties. Again, I do not socialize much (my sociability problems are coming up a lot here). Parties are fifty percent mingling, twenty percent dancing and thirty percent alcohol from my point of view. I'm not much of a drinker; only every once and a while to I partake in a glass of wine. I don't like to talk to people I don't know. As strange as that sounds it's true. I can dance, I just don't like to in front of other people. I like the traditional Indian dances. They're so beautiful to look at and just as beautiful to do.

Xiaoyu had sat with us after the little hugging session. We sat and talked, catching up with each other. Xiaoyu told us that after she got the call to rejoin, she trained and practiced vigorously and told us to watch out. And, as much as a shocker it is to me, I actually took her seriously. She seemed different somehow. I don't know what it was, but something about her made the young girl stand out to me more. Maybe she really is competition I should look out for.

Suddenly, the lights dimmed and a projection screen rolled down from the opposite wall that faced us. I noticed then that everyone was in the dining room. Including...him. He wasn't sitting, rather, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. He was clad in black that night in a black suit, black tie, black shoes, and even black gloves. It was apparent that he really liked gloves. That's all I've ever seen his hands be in...stylish gloves. Again, once he was locked in my sights I couldn't stop staring. So...sexy.

"Hey Zafina!" Julia whispered, getting louder until I finally heard her.

"Huh-huh, what?"

The American woman just rolled her eyes and Xiaoyu next her covered her mouth, laughing. I blushed a little; I still cannot believe I was staring at him again. I prayed that he didn't notice.

All of a sudden the lights went back to their previous brightness and the projector screen slid back up into its respective place. Did I just miss that entire thing because I was too busy gawking at some Russian I barely knew? I really needed to stop that! I got up with the other girls and followed them out of the dining room. I walked faster to get closer to Julia and once I was I asked her what that presentation was really about.

"Just some secretary of the Kazama kid congratulating us on making it this far and to have fun," she replied, frowning at me, "You _really_ should pay more attention. To the task at hand I mean...not the cute guys in the room. I don't even stare at Hwoarang that much and he's a _hunk_." Xiaoyu laughed and mumbled something in Japanese.

I raised my eyebrow for a fraction of a second, not knowing who the heck that was but then I decided to ignore it. The American was right, I had to stay. Focused. It's just that he's so...mysterious and handsome and...it just hypnotizes me.

"I say," Xiaoyu spoke, "just ask him out to date. The worst he could say is no."

It was Julia's turn to laugh as we headed to the bar, "Or nothing. Nothing is plausible." I had gulped down the champagne Julia had ordered for me as we exited the dining room. Suddenly, I felt in the need for another drink. I ordered an apple martini as I wanted to try something new. Many of the contestants here didn't even look old enough to drink and as the Arizonan woman next to me ordered a drink, a thought popped into my head. Once we were away from the bar, I asked the girl a question.

"Are you even old enough to drink?" I took a sip of the martini which was very satisfying to my taste buds.

"Totally. I'm twenty-one ya know? In Japan the drinking age is twenty," she said, taking a sip of her drink. She didn't look twenty-one. Xiaoyu stood next to us, frowning. I knew she felt left out, only being nineteen and so far away yet so close to being able to drinking. She had a Pepsi in her hand, drinking it slowly.

"But seriously Zafina," Julia spoke after a moment of silence, "if you like him so much, he's right over there"-she glanced back to the bar at Sergei seating on a stool in front of it-"go talk to him. He may not answer, but just do it. Just don't stress it; it will make you look like a freaking idiot." Xiaoyu nodded in agreement.

I looked at both of them. The two seemed so confident that it was just _that easy_. Well it_ isn't_. They don't know how it feels to like someone who you will probably never know if they return your feelings or not because they won't open their damn mouth! I like someone who possibly is just hoping if someone didn't defeat me by now, that they could! I met him in a fighting competition for Christ's sake! What? Do they expect that this will turn into some secret love affair? That either of us will just forfeit our spots in the competition out of "true love"? Absurd! Like I've always said...

"Fairytales are only meant for books," I said to them, completely serious.

"Zafina," they say in perfect unison, "just do it!"

* * *

**Hahahaha! Cliffhanger! Yea...yea I _did_ do this to you. I apologize. I guess you and I are both going to have to wait...**

**Both? Yes, both. I have no idea how I'm going to do this next chapter. See? That's why I left you hangin'.**

**I'm sorry. :(**

**Also, I have no idea if Japan has country clubs...at this point it's too late turn back. I really doubt that they do, but "oh well" a country club just seemed appropriate.**

**Please review still...**

**~M.o.t.C**


	9. Oshikake

**Here's the chapter many of you have probably been waiting for. I'm sorry it took me so long, I've been entering writing contests and things and for a week I totally forgot I had finished it! M'bad. Also, I've been getting ready for the start of school so...**

**_*Please read the bottom A/N at the end of the chapter! Important stuff down there people!_  
**

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There are a lot of things I'm afraid to do. I may come off as this very confident, fearless woman, but that is not the case at all. I am afraid of being enclosed spaces by myself, for I fear that people will attack me when I am vulnerable. I am afraid to eat something if I do not see it prepared in front of my eyes. That's why going to restaurants is a struggle for me. Now I have a new fear to add to my repertoire.

An empty glass in my hand, I consider licking the sugar off of the brim of the glass to buy me more time. (But of course I didn't, I'm not classless.) I couldn't go through with this, not today. I was afraid of him not talking to me or very bluntly rejecting me. I hadn't ever dealt with something like that. I reject men, men do not reject me. But I had a feeling that the latter was going to happen today if I asked him to go on a date with me.

Xiaoyu tapped me on my shoulder, "You're staring. If you don't do this now he or you might get eliminated and then what?"

"I shall forget about him," I responded making it sound so simple.

She shook her head, "Not that simple." I sighed, the girl was correct after all; it wasn't as simple as that. I would probably still think of him, wondering what he was like on the inside.

"Fine, but I'll do it at the way end of this stupid party," I said, "if I embarrass myself I want to be able to make a clear exit for the door." I smiled a little and Xiaoyu giggled.

* * *

This party was ridiculous. It was a joy having Julia and Xiaoyu around me to talk with, but other than that…it was pretty boring. The food was great, but it made me even more homesick. Japanese cuisine is nothing like its Indian counterpart. I missed the spice and complex flavors. Japanese food is known to be clean and simple in flavor. Savory and spicy is more my speed. Xiaoyu even gave me a strange look when I dumped more pounds of wasabi on my sushi hors d'oeuvres than the pounds of sushi that were even on the plate.

There was dance, which I reluctantly participated in (Julia and Xiaoyu forced me). I was told I can dance pretty well, which I already knew was true. I just don't like to dance in front of other people. I like how it feels to let myself go when I dance. It was a formal dance though so Xiaoyu went to go find her friend Hwoarang (which I realized was also the moron that I ran into on my first day in Japan!) to dance with and Julia and I were left to dance with each other like idiots. The American was a very good dancer herself and I actually enjoyed myself then.

Soon, it was time for people to leave and get ready for the next set of rounds on the day after tomorrow. I gulped hard, knowing what was coming next. It was now or never. I had harbored all of these feelings for someone I don't even know and now was the time to try and act on them.

My heart raced and my muscles stiffened. I couldn't stop rubbing my arm and I started feeling the urge to kick something over. Was this how girl's usually felt when dealing with something like this?

Julia walked up to me and smiled kindly, "You've basically got one shot. Don't mess it up. Corner him and then don't beat around the bush. Say what you want to say then be quiet. Wait for a response…if he gives one. If he somehow agrees to meet you somewhere…miraculously, don't sound overly happy it's a complete turn off."

I nod, beginning to understand. There was actually a science for how to ask someone out? It is a very interesting concept. I take a deep breath and spot the Russian man heading for an exit near the dining room and I make my way there. I felt Xiaoyu and Julia close behind me. (Maybe they were there to make sure I didn't completely destroy my chances.)

_One shot. Corner him and be frank when I talk. Be quiet and wait for an answer. Be calm if I am miraculously given a yes._

I sighed and moved my neck quickly from side to side, getting rid of the crooks in my neck. I walk slowly but quickly enough to catch up to him. He was about to open and walk through the exit when I hesitantly tapped his shoulder and wait for him to acknowledge me.

Sergei turns and I am instantly greeted with his blank, beautiful blue eyes that I love so much_. _

_Love? Yes, I guess that's the right word. I do love them. They maybe cold and uninviting but there are a depth in them that attracts me._ Yet, I don't know what that is exactly.

"I have realized over the past few weeks that you are truly distracting to me. I find that if I don't get to understand you better I will not be able to concentrate. I would really like to 'date' you or at least take you to dinner to thank you for returning to me my lucky bangle. One night, one time and I will be out of your way. Do you agree?"

I had sped through the statement like I was some sort of idiot. To seem even more mentally retarded, I flash a smile that's seemed more like a grimace of pain when I tried to attempt a genuine one. I looked back to my two friends for a brief second and their faces almost convinced me to push my crush out of the way and make a run for an airport for the first flight back to India. I look back to him and waited, I waited for something.

At first, I thought he was going to ignore me and just walk away, but then he sighed and actually opened his mouth to speak!

"Just one?" he asks me. I couldn't answer for a while. I was too surprised by the sound of his voice. It seemed so…underused. It was as if he hadn't talked in many years. I almost chuckled at the thought of there being dust on his larynx. After I get over my initial shock, I nod.

"Fine," he says and walks over to a table in the dining room and grabs a disposable napkin. He holds his hand out and it takes me a second to realize that he wants a pen. I pulled one out of my purse and he takes it and writes on the napkin hurriedly. No doubt he was in a rush to get out of here; I felt the same. I smiled when he handed me the napkin and said, "My name's Zafina, by the way." Gosh, I felt like such a complete idiot throughout the whole time. But, to my chagrin, it actually worked!

He only nodded when I told him my name and then he walked away. For the moment, I was confused. I had gotten the date but now I was left wondering why. He doesn't seem like the type to accept offers like this much at all—assuming he has received them—so why me? Once he's gone I turn to Xiaoyu and Julia who were spying in the corner. They come out quickly and rush to my side, hounding me with questions and even…mocking me.

Julia starts doing what at first I think is her take on the robot dance, but then she starts saying what I said to Sergei…in the most horrid monotone robotic voice I have ever heard! She quotes me word to word and adds a few 'calculating…calculating…'s in there along with a few lines of fake binary code. Xiaoyu begins to laugh and I feel like strangling the both of them.

"I didn't sound like that!" I shout, "Did I?"

Julia stops and tries to hold back her snickering (but fails), "God Zafina, you were supposed to ask him out as simply as possible. You were _not_ supposed to bore him out of his mind and then say, 'Do you agree?'"—she did some weird hand gestures and contorted her face here (and she also deepened and used that same robotic voice again, which I hate)—"It was like you were that nerd that lives next door who files his taxes for him. And then you steal some of his shirts when your at his house asking for 'sugar' but really you want to smell his clothes! And then you go back home to your fifty cats that all smell like the curry you cook for dinner!"

_That was a very detailed scenario._ I was mad and felt witty, so I countered her statement, "I'm sure he can file his own taxes. He's intelligent unlike that Hwoarang man you keep falling over Julia."

"Hey!" Xiaoyu and Julia exclaimed in unison.

"Ah," I say, "two for two."

Julia sneered at me, "Well, anyway, I'm completely surprised that you actually got him to say yes! Even if it is just one date, he actually said yes. Maybe that robo tactic of yours actually works." At that Xiao laughs again.

"Or maybe he was afraid you'd kill him," the youngest of us said, "You've got that effect on even the toughest of us." I smirked, she had a point.

* * *

We all got into the car (Xiaoyu included) and then I feel safe enough to read the napkin that Sergei had given me. His hand writing was almost like calligraphy. It was so smooth and beautiful. I heard Xiao mumble a "Wow," as she leaned over into the passenger seat and read over my shoulder. It was dark, so my pocket flashlight came in handy.

On it was his number and:

_Call in the morning to schedule. I will meet wherever and at any time before eight p.m. and any time after eleven a.m. After this, please leave me alone for the duration of the Tournament. No contact outside the tournament either._

_-Sergei_

I had planned to leave him alone after this, of course, but something about being told by someone to go screw yourself and leave them the heck alone sort of made me feel like a stalker. I'm not some deranged psychopathic stalker. Is it so much to ask him out for one date?

Now Xiaoyu had turned and began talking to Julia in Japanese, smiling the entire time. Both Chinese women began to laugh and I had a feeling it was about what Ling Xiaoyu had just read. Then I heard her say one word I remembered spotting in the Japanese dictionary _oshikake_ meaning uninvited visitor. In other words: stalker. This word was preceded by my name Zafina and I knew she was calling me a stalker!

"Pull over!" I screamed, wanting to give them a piece of my mind.

* * *

***No martial artists were injured in the making of this chapter.**

**Concerning the pairings-**

**For some reason, Julia x Hwoarang is a very popular pairing. I have no idea why. (Waits to be pelted by rocks and rotten fruit and vegetables by fans of the pairing.) And this is a very legit question I'm about to ask: Could someone, anyone, tell me what makes this pairing so great? Why it's so popular? Was there a Tekken game/movie I missed that explained this...? Somehow making it canon? **

**So I thought I would appeal to those fans by sprinkling a little mention of this pairing in this chapter.**

**Zafina/Sergei- To be honestly honest, I have no idea why I like this pairing. Absolutely. No. Clue. If I knew I'd tell you. When I first had heard this was semi-popular, I was a little skeptical. I wasn't really getting the idea behind it. But now, it doesn't really matter to me much if I understand why I like it. I just do.**

**Jin/Xiao- it's sort of self-explanatory, right?**

**

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****Any pairing you would like to see before this story comes to a close? Tell me in a review or message. Any fanservice I can provide you darlings?  
**

**EGAD. Yes, to a close. I predict *spoiler* there will only be another 2-3 chapters. WAHH, yeah I know.**

**

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**

**I thought this was going to be a short one, which disappointed me greatly. Almost a month without another chapter and it was going to be _short_? Anyway, it was longer than I expected it to be. If it's still too short for you all, I'm truly sorry. Honestly, I was dreading writing this because I hadn't even completely played out how this whole "Asking Dragunov out" thing was going to work out. Now the actual date is worrying me. xD**

**I've also realized something...I've got an eye-fetish. I love describing eyes. If any of you know Xerxes Break from Pandora Hearts I spent half a chapter explaining the complex beauty of his eyes in a story that isn't on . Also, I'm a sucker for crystal blue eyes. xD  
**

**Anyway, 'till next time lovelies;**

**~M.o.t.C  
**


	10. Viktor Dvorkin

**I cannot apologize enough for the lateness of this chapter. There have been a lot variables for this crime. Schoolwork, lack of confidence, and stress are but a few excuses that apply to me here. Yes, lack of confidence. That hinders your will to write _a lot, _trust me. Please enjoy this chapter!**

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May I confess something? I have never been on a date before. I have never kissed a man before. I'm not exactly sure how dates work or what to do, but I'm almost sure that how this went down isn't usually how it happens.

Julia helped me get ready the morning of the date and Xiaoyu offered her advice just before the date. Well, calling it a "date" is a very…_untrue_ thing. A date is a gathering of two people that _both_ share feelings for each other. As far as I can tell, Mr. Dragunov couldn't care less if got hit by a car. Quite frankly, I'm considering whether or not after the meeting if my feelings will stay the same. They probably won't because I've never had a crush before and this is purely just testing out the feeling. What we have between us is nothing more than a mutual need to win the King of Iron Fist Tournament.

In the end, eventually, only one of us can move on to win and if it ever did come down to just the two of us…I can say with about a 98% certainty that I would not hold back. But…what about the other two percent? Would that measly two percent come to pass?

Of course not; I sacrificed too much and beat too many people to succumb to petty emotions now! I was going to face him with same villainous intentions I had faced everyone else with. No emotions will sway me from trying my hardest! And, if he should be eliminated before I get my chance at him, so be it.

"You _can't_ mess this up," Julia had said to me right before I walked out of the door of her hotel room, "he probably won't talk the whole time, so you'll initiate most of the conversation. In fact, it'll probably be more like—"

"I'll be talking to myself?" I said, beating her to the punch.

"Yeah… Well, good luck."

"Julia," I felt the need to ask her what I was about to because for knowing her for so long it was important for me to ask, "Why are you always so…positive; so happy? I know I'm not the most optimistic person in the world but you always know how to look on the bright side of things…how?"

"I didn't use to," she responded after a moment of processing my strange question, "Trust me. Positivity, had you asked me a year ago, would not be something I thought a friend would know me for." I raised an eyebrow, prompting the continuation of her explanation.

"Things…_happened _in my past that even now I still can't get over. Let's just say, the Mishima Zaibatsu is not in my favor."

And with that, I walked out of the door and out of the hotel with nervousness in my heart. Sergei and I had agreed to meet at a nearby restaurant; Indian to be exact. I was getting sick of such simple flavors and craved a taste for the spices and intricate tastes I grew up with.

I took a taxi six blocks to a small outdoor mall on the outskirts of Shabuya and arrived at _Kadipatta, _one of the only "Indian" restaurants in the city. It was a small, kiddy-corner type establishment with few visitors. I hoped then that I hadn't picked the worst place to make an impression on my crush. But, I was craving some very delicious at least remotely Indian cuisine and couldn't wait until I ultimately _won_ this competition and received the answers I so desperately needed. And, even if after my success of making it to the end but I couldn't acquire any information, I could use the billion dollars to open multiple research facilities and maybe get my tribe out of poverty.

I had no idea what Russians like to eat, but something told me that spicy curries were not on Russian palettes.

I am a very punctual person and arriving early is something that is completely second nature to me. To arrive early is to be on time, to be on time is to be late and to be late is unacceptable to the umpteenth degree! Excuse me for my melodrama; I just hate it when people are late! I'd slap myself in the face if I were ever late to anything! So, I pulled into the parking lot across the street from the "Indian" restaurant at exactly 5:50; ten minutes before we were set to meet. Not too early as to make me look desperate or alone but not "on time" either.

The inside of the restaurant was so very large looking for how it looked on the outside. The walls were a mustard yellow with and with small dining chairs within the same color scheme and white linen table cloths…it wasn't very Indian. The colors are usually darker. I hoped the food would be more representative of my country than the décor.

I assumed he wasn't in the restaurant yet, I'm always the first to arrive to anything. I looked around one more time quickly and saw that he was nowhere to be found.

_Of course…_

There was a light tap at my shoulder. I smiled and turned to face my "date". It was funny; he always seemed to be more of a dressy, sophisticated person than me, but here, something about him seemed to have lifted and evaporated away. I thought it was something in his clothes that was missing or present. He did seem a tiny bit more lax in his clothing options today. Whatever it was, it wasn't there anymore…and I was missing it.

The left edge of my lip twitched downward.

"You seem different," I said, "could it be that you—"

"I am less…apprehensive…of you. At least, if only for this night," he said simply and my stomach lurched at the lyrical tone of his voice. Never had I found a Russian accent so appealing.

"Oh, don't be so quick to judge me. I am still very much apprehensive of you, too," I said, "But what am I saying? I questioned even my mother's motives all the same, too."

He shrugged, as if what I said was not out of the question; as if it were believable that a daughter could distrust her mother. Maybe he had had these same suspicions of his own mother.

"Shall we find a seat?" I ask, quite uncomfortable with talking about our strange behaviors as children with families behind us. He said nothing. Instead, his arm extended and signaled for me to lead the way. A waitress (apparently named Mei Lee) led us to our table, after which Sergei pulled out the chair for me. I saw JiJi smile slightly at the sight.

"Would the chivalrous man and the pretty woman like to start with a drink today?"

I smiled. Finally something I could ask for confidently in this bloody country, "Niligiri, please."

"Niligiri, right," she said in perfectly in English, despite the fact that she lived in a country in which the letter L did not exist in their vocabulary, "And for you, sir?"

"Just water, please," he asked her clearly.

She nodded and went on her merry way. I found myself still very curious about him. I guess that is natural after all, but I thought wholeheartedly that this was just a crush and that I'd get over it as soon as I went out with him once. But then again, the date wasn't over yet.

"I'm sorry to drag you to an Indian restaurant," I apologized, "but I felt a need for taste of home. No doubt you feel similar?" That last sentence didn't sound quite right, but it was too late to fix it now. He nodded. That was more than expected. I wouldn't expect him to spill his heart out about how much he misses Russia, the people, the food, sights, and the sounds. He's trained not to show emotion at all, especially in vulnerable situations like these. Same as me.

"Japan treating you well?" I asked, wanting to know if he was sick of this bloody country as well.

"Russia...is nothing like this country," he said calmly and quietly. Finally! He spoke!

"Aye, it is nothing like India either. Russia is a beautiful country."

Had he asked, I probably would have told him that I had gone on a mission to assassinate a Russian spy as he fled our country after stealing several of our jewels and performing torture interrogations on our men. He was also the ringleader of a gang that lived in India that raided many of the homes in our village and raped many of the village's women. Had he asked, I would have told him it felt good to slit the man's throat after several hours of watching him suffer under the control and whim of _my_ gang of men. Had he asked, I would have told him that Viktor Dvorkin was my greatest kill and I loved every minute that led up to the victory. But, he didn't ask.

Immediately, Mei Lee came back with our drinks, my tea's steam was very visible and smiled knowing it would be very hot. In flash she came and in a flash she had gone and then we were alone again.

I had wished that she didn't leave so quickly…or that she didn't leave at all. It was fairly awkward and strange without her around.

Listen to me! It's like we couldn't even function together or carry on conversation! I had relied on her to make me feel less strange! This wasn't going to work and I'm not talking about the relationship—that was bound to never happen—what I'm talking about is this one date itself. I could not sit through another minute of that!

As we ate (and it was a wonder that Sergei ate anything on that menu) a question kept nagging at the back of my head but I wouldn't allow myself to ask it until the dinner was over. So most of the time we sat in silence, the occasional question-and-answer conversation shared between us. I was sure he was just as uncomfortable as I was in all of this and I immediately regretted my decision to ask him out.

After my bowl of Moong Dal soup, the intrigue and my interest in him were wearing off and something about that made me feel dull the rest of the night. What little personality I had was drained. Who knew that I could break my attraction to a man in one measly date?

How depressing.

After the dinner—which was very delicious; the soup was savory and velvety; the tea was sweet and smooth—Dragunov was so kind as to pay for both of our meals. At least his chivalry was something a woman could look forward to.

I'm sure he was a wonderful man and everything, but the fact of the matter was that he did not talk much at all to me and so getting to know him was impossible. Getting to actually fall in love with him was not happening. I decided that I would go back to the hotel immediately to prepare for my matches. One small goodbye and I'd be on my way, never to think anything of Sergei Drangunov again.

* * *

"Goodbye," I said after our meal was over, "thank you for joining me."

"Pleasure," he said softly.

_Was it really?_ I thought.

I smiled faintly and walked to the sidewalk, about to cross the street. As I stepped out onto the street, a taxi sped down the road and showed no signs of stopping. The driver was talking on the phone and had no passengers to warn him of my walking in the street. It seemed with all of my martial arts skill, I could not manage to get out of the cab's way. I was paralyzed with fear for my life. And then from behind me an arm grabbed for my waist and pulled-almost dragged-me to the safety of the curb.

After the shock of the events ended, I glanced up to seek the face of my hero. He helped me up with his hand and asked me if I was alright. Before I could even think of saying yes, I smiled at knowing it was Sergei Dragunov! For some reason, I was shocked to find this out. Why would he save my life? Me being just injured could qualify me for disqualification and I'd be out of his way.

"W-why?" I asked, looking at him with bewilderment.

"Why not?"

* * *

**Thanks for reading this chapter! I'm thinking this will be the second to last chapter of this story which means a lot of work for me to do to tie this little bow up nice and neatly. **

**Bye lovelies! **

**~M.o.t.C  
**


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